


Improv, Blues, and All That Jazz

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being rescued from the rig, Helen and Will are stuck in New Orleans for the night. Will can't let go of their earlier argument, and Helen has plans that don't necessarily sit well with either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improv, Blues, and All That Jazz

**Author's Note:**

> Set after _Next Tuesday_. As always, thank you to kageygirl.

Les bons temps were rolling on along, down in the pedestrian-crowded streets of the French Quarter. Their suite was five stories up and a block away from Bourbon, though, far enough from the festivities that only snatches of the city's exuberance drifted up to the balcony Will was standing on. Spikes of high-pitched laughter and the fruitless revving of taxi cab engines textured the monotone buzz generated by the conversing masses. The occasional squawk of a saxophone filtered out from the open windows of a creole restaurant across the way, while the choruses of “Proud Mary” from the miked rock band two blocks down broke over it all, periodically drowning out everything else like the rhythm of crashing waves.

It was a cacophony of life and joy, a bubbling cauldron of energetic partying--all serving to underscore the fact that he should be in bed right now.

His muscles were so exhausted that he didn't dare lean against the wrought iron balustrade, afraid that he wouldn't be able to keep himself from tipping right on over if his attention wavered. All the adrenaline--from the crash and subsequent fights for survival--had dissipated hours ago, leaving his body aching and drained. The late summer swelter was almost as good as a steam room, draining away the last dregs of tension knotting the muscles of his spine. But his brain was unwilling to give in to that same blissful haziness. He couldn't shut it down. Couldn't turn off the instinct in his head that said he needed to be alert and aware for the next crisis.

The wind shifted, a warm updraft bringing the scent of something sweet and floral, something he wanted to label jasmine though he couldn't say for sure. Will breathed in deep, letting it chase the remnants of chopper fuel and sea salt out of his lungs. They almost died out there today. Almost too many different ways to count. And yet, it wasn't the what-ifs that kept cycling through his head. Oh, he wouldn't be surprised if he had a nightmare or two--he'd certainly had them before, after Clara and Ashley, after those endless hours with Helen in Bermuda. But nightmares were okay. They were part of his brain processing things, dealing with grief and fear, and as long as they didn't turn into night terrors, he could handle them.

No, it wasn't the what-ifs that were keeping him up.

The balcony doors beside him rattled, jarring him out of his introspection. It was Helen on the other side, of course, being stymied by the swollen wooden frame. Will reached for the handle to give her a hand--just as the door gave way with a sticky pop.

"Oh!" Helen didn't grab for her heart like most people did when startled. She went for the gun at her side. Happily for him, she was wearing a white fluffy bathrobe with no weaponry in sight. She let out a breath, then shot him a sheepish smile. "I thought you'd gone out for the evening."

"Yeah, I thought I'd hang around and work on my Batman impression instead." He shook his head. "What about you? No urge to get out and paint the town?"

"Not really, no." She didn't add anything more, moving off to stand on the opposite side of the balcony. She stared outward, not down, hand clutching at the neck of her robe almost defensively. Her posture practically screamed 'don't talk to me'. Will sighed and went back to his own brooding.

Insomnia had been his bane as long as he could remember, ever since his mother was killed, but it had eased since he started working for Helen Magnus. He'd been stalked by two fears most of his life: that he was crazy for remembering what he thought he did, and that he wasn't crazy at all. Helen had swept that all away in one grand blow, shooting down the specter of insanity that had haunted him most of his life--and, just as importantly, reassuring him that there would always be one person in his life who had his back.

Today had shaken that sense of trust. Oh, she definitely still had his back in a fight. But the way Helen had gone after him, over and over again, like he had crossed her last nerve and she couldn't wait for him to do it again so she could give him a big what for... Yeah, Ashley's upcoming birthday explained most of it. Not all.

"They're serving breakfast in the courtyard in the morning," she said, her sudden voice too loud, up here in the rafters of the city. "I imagine it will be lovely."

Will angled towards her, relieved that she was making an effort to connect. "I'll have to set my alarm early enough to make it down. I've always wanted to try beignets."

"I prefer croissants, myself. With strawberries and a good breakfast tea." Her lips quirked the slightest bit. "I've heard the chicoried coffee is not to be missed, though it all tastes like bilge water to me."

"And we've both had enough of that to last us for a while."

That drew a half-laugh out of her, but not much else. She looked ready to drift away again, to get lost in whatever dark thoughts were so compelling. He took a step towards her, drawing her attention.

He waved at the street below. "You know, I always thought the Hyatt would be more your style. Something away from all this 'ridiculousness'."

Helen shrugged. "You don't know everything about me, Will."

 _But I want to._ He didn't say it. Instead, he waited her out, letting her own propensity for honesty drag the words out of her.

"Ashley always wanted to holiday in the French Quarter." She dropped her hands away from the robe, curling them over the top rail of the balustrade. For one heart-clutching second she leaned forward, hips edging perilously upward, but she swayed backwards again before Will could even shift to the balls of his feet. "But as I told you, I have little use for vacations, especially in a place where the point seems to be drinking oneself half to death. I couldn't imagine a worse destination for the two of us, except perhaps Las Vegas. So I put her off, year after year."

"She had to have understood your reasons."

"I'm sure she did." Helen snorted. "Part of me wants to deceive myself, pretend that this was the year we would have made the trip for her birthday. But of course that's not true at all."

Will wondered if that was part of what was behind her vehemence that he not take a vacation himself, some logic of grief that dictated if Ashley couldn't be happy, no one else was allowed to be, either. He let out a long breath, then moved the rest of the way to her side, setting his forearms against the balustrade. "I can't imagine her not getting bored after a day. She was a lot like you."

Helen nodded once. "Perhaps. But I wish she'd had the opportunity to find that out for herself."

There was nothing he could say to that. The hardest part of grief was acceptance, and he wasn't going to help her by offering up platitudes that her rational mind would destroy instantly.

Helen huffed an exasperated breath. "This is foolish. I didn't choose this hotel so you could stay here and listen to my regrets. You should go out, Will. Have a good time."

Will blinked slowly. Apparently he was wrong about the not wanting anyone else to have a good time thing. "Are you trying to make up for Reykjavik?"

"I rather thought today's excitement did that," she said, in a teasing tone, but her voice was too tight for it to be believable. "But yes, I did hope that you might find a little of what you were looking for, here. All I ask is that you don't bring anyone back to our rooms."

Will stared at her. He felt dizzy. Like his entire equilibrium was shot to hell, as badly as it had been when the helicopter door gave way and pitched him into the ocean. "You think I'm going to go out and have a one-night stand on the streets of New Orleans?"

She shook her head sharply. "I assumed you would be a gentleman and accompany her back to her room."

He was speechless. Absolutely speechless. He turned away from her, unable to even look at her for a second, but then anger had him spinning back around. "That's what you think of me? That I'm so desperate to get my rocks off I was going on a 3000 mile booty call?"

Her back stiffened. "You're the one who was making jokes about Gutmansdottir."

"Yes, exactly! I was _joking_." This. This was what had been keeping him up. The rug-pulling knowledge that she had no clue who he was. That no matter how much he trusted her, the same obviously wasn't true. That somehow, he had failed to be the man she wanted him to be--at least in her eyes. "I like Sigrid, okay? But you're acting like I'm some kind of sex fiend."

"No, I--" Color rose on Helen's cheeks, which was unusual enough that it took some of the edge off his anger, enough that he could wait her out. She took a deep breath, then pressed her lips together for a moment. "I'm sorry. I never meant to imply that such behavior was deviant, or even something to be ashamed of. I just know that you're young, and that you've been lonely, and I wanted to make that up to you."

"By telling me to go sow my wild oats on Bourbon Street." He curled the fingers of both hands into his hair. The slight tug on his scalp grounded him, helped him to fight through his anger and frustration as he tried to think. He dropped his hands and aimed for his professional voice, gentle and sincere, but it came out as more of a growl. "I don't know why it's any of your business, but let me make this clear: I don't do meaningless sex."

"Don't you think I know that!" Her voice bounced off the plastered walls on either side of them, the echo ringing around them as they stared at each other.

Will swallowed. "So why are you--"

"If you 'did casual', then I could--" She snapped her mouth closed. The flush that bloomed on her cheeks was shocking, but it had his heart speeding at the same time.

"What?" he asked, stepping closer, crowding into her space. "Then you could what?"

"Then I could lose myself in you!" she shouted. Her eyes were wide and open, robe-covered chest rising with sharp, fast breaths.

It should shock him. Helen looked wild, defiant and scared at the same time as she waited for his response, and all he could think was _now it makes sense_. She'd made overtures before, but he'd written them off as the flirtatious humor of a woman comfortable with her sexuality. But if she'd been looking for something from him, some sign that he was open to a no-strings-attached release valve...

Wow, was he ever blind. And not a little dumb.

Will licked his lips. "I didn't say 'casual'."

It was Helen's turn to blink slowly. "What?"

"I said, 'I don't do meaningless sex'." His mind was racing, trying to root out all the ethical concerns, but they all took second seat to the life slowly returning to her eyes. "It could never be meaningless with you. You're my friend, and that's important." He took a chance, resting his hand on her shoulder. The thick terrycloth swallowed up the brush of his thumb, but he had a feeling she was aware of the touch anyway. "But, if you want that, I can do casual."

"Can you?" She shook her head. "I can't be what you're looking for, Will."

"I'm not expecting a relationship. I'm not going to get possessive, or clingy, or demand that it happen again. And you're not going to break my heart." That last might have been a lie, but he wasn't going to think about it right now. "I'm only asking for one thing from you."

"What is that?"

It felt...wrong, somehow, the way she was looking at him. Waiting to see if he'd deign to sleep with her. It made him hesitate, but he knew he couldn't do this if she was going to use this against him. "Will you trust me? Trust me to be what you need me to be, whatever that is? Not just tonight, I mean. I know I have a lot to learn yet, and I'm not saying I'm not going to make mistakes. But--"

She pressed the flats of her fingers against his lips, shushing him quite effectively. "Will. Yes." A soft smile eased onto her face. "Yes, of course I do. You wouldn't still be here if I didn't."

He pushed his lips out against her fingers in a ridiculous pout. She laughed and dropped her hand, but not so quickly that the drag of her fingers didn't send a prickle of desire up his arms. "Good to know," he told her.

"I've been a bit of a beast today, haven't I?"

Will tipped his head back and forth, making a show of considering the question. "Well. If I _had_ to rank you, Squiddly, and the sea scorpion..."

She swatted his shoulder even as she started laughing loudly, a bit giddily. It was so very easy to drop his hand to her waist and draw her forward into his arms. She was still giggling a little as he kissed her, the vibration of it tickling his lips and making him smile back at her. They parted easily, still smiling at each other.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.

Helen's eyes darkened. "Mmm, yes. Most definitely. But are you?"

"Are you kidding?" In retrospect, maybe he'd been a little too clinical, a little too reserved in his initial response. He considered trying to explain--but words were nothing without the actions to back them up. He kissed her again, far from sweet and friendly. He opened his mouth and she did too, meeting his tongue with her own. The damn robe didn't making groping easy, but he tried, holding her close with one hand while he skimmed the other down to her breast. She made a pleased noise into his mouth, and then pulled back from the kiss.

"While public indecency might not be a concern, perhaps we should continue this where it's more comfortable?" She stepped back, taking his hand and leading him over the threshold. He paused to reach for the doors, but she stopped him with a firm tug. "Leave them open. I like the night air."

The chilled air of the room mixing with the warm from outside created eddies around his ankles as she urged him farther into their suite, adding to the surreality of the moment. Once they'd made it around the couch, she paused, and Will was sure that she was going to call the whole thing off. Instead, she stepped into his space, threading her arms around his neck before kissing him deeply. He swayed into her when she pulled back, his eyes still closed, and she laughed a little as he regained his balance.

"Do you have prophylactics with you?" she asked, which had him open-eyed and standing straight immediately.

"Uh," he said. A blush wanted to rise on his cheeks and he fought it down; it wasn't a bad thing that he'd packed prepared for Iceland. It wasn't. "Yeah. In my Dopp kit."

"Excellent." She smiled at him, then turned and headed straight into his room. Helen had a way of leaving him flat-footed, and by the time he caught up to her, she was already fishing the box of condoms out of his bag. She opened it, drew out a square--and then, eyebrow cocked saucily, a second. Will laughed as she set the pair on the nightstand, though his breath was already short from anticipation.

She tossed the box in the direction of his bag, almost uncharacteristically frivolous, and then untied the belt of her robe. Will's breath caught and held. She pushed the robe off her shoulders in a quick, efficient move, letting it drop to the floor to leave her standing naked before him.

"God, Magnus." It felt a little odd to use her last name while he was staring at her bare breasts, but her first was an intimacy he didn't dare. Not when she'd practically begged to keep it casual between them.

"Not bad for going on a hundred and sixty, hmm?"

He shook his head. "Not bad for going on thirty, even."

"Flatterer." She stalked towards him, hips swaying like she was still wearing heels. Will caught her around the waist as soon as she was close enough. She looked like she was going to say something else, but he needed to kiss her, hold her close and feel her skin. They kissed until they were both noisy with need, her high-pitched breaths a counterpoint to his own lower groans. He started walking them towards the bed, but she got a hand up against his chest.

"Not yet," she said. "I want to see you."

"Yeah, okay." It was quick work to strip off his T-shirt and pajama bottoms. He hesitated for a moment with his fingers in the waistband of his boxer-briefs, watching her watching him. The hungry look in her eyes made him want to draw it out, give her something of a show, but he figured he'd look ridiculous if he tried any stripper moves. Will settled on taking his time, easing the waistband over his erection before letting his shorts drop to the floor.

"Very nice," Helen said, voice breathy, her hand at the base of her throat. "Lie down, please."

Will nodded jerkily. The bed was still unmade, the sheet and comforter half-pushed back from where he'd left it after giving up on dreamland. He pushed them farther down the stretch of the queen-sized mattress, leaving plenty of room for him to lay down. He tucked his hands under his head and waited.

Helen let out a shuddering breath. She dropped her hand and brought one knee up on the bed, pausing there as she looked at him. When watching her assessing eyes got to be too much, he let his own gaze wander. Her breasts were gorgeous, more taut than he would think for a woman who'd given birth. Her belly was softly rounded, but only a few thin white streaks crossed her skin. Will wondered if that was yet another effect of the source blood--and if so, did she rue it. One more way that Ashley's presence had been wiped from existence. Or, perhaps, the lack of reminders on her own body helped Helen to put her daughter's death out of her mind.

He doubted that last, very much.

"Do you have the slightest understanding of how you've tried my professionalism?" Helen touched him then, barely, a feather-light upward stroke of her fingers that raised the hair on his shin. "It shouldn't even occur to me to look at a patient this way, and yet I've had to remind myself more than once of that fact when you were under my care."

Will snorted. "Do you have any idea how much you test my professionalism _every day_?" He shook his head. "I mean, have you seen what you wear? Hello, your shoes alone are enough to turn any man into a fetishist."

Helen let out a girlish giggle. "Attention to one's appearance is very important." She stroked her hand along the inside of his leg, and he drew his knee up, letting it fall out to the side, offering himself up to her view. She kept going with that light touch against the inside of his thigh, not hurrying, eyes attentive as he grew harder in front of her. Will couldn't help squirming a little, his body aching for more, but for the most part he held himself still. This was her show. He'd been following her lead long enough now that he didn't have any hesitation about letting her take control here, too.

Her hand's journey continued, right on up to cup his balls. He closed his eyes and spread his legs wider. The bed dipped; he opened his eyes to see Helen climbing fully onto it. She swung one knee over his thigh as she moved her hand up, stroking his cock once with that same soft, almost clinical touch. He brought his hands down, unable to pretend to any kind of coolness any longer, though he kept them away from her, waiting for some kind of signal that she wanted his active participation.

Her hand slowed over his torso, the pressure of her fingers firming, becoming less teasing. She skipped to his upper arm before returning to his waist. He realized she was inspecting the reddened marks Squiddly had left trying to drown him. Will had looked them over earlier, wondering if maybe the suckers really had caused some kind of allergic reaction, but the marks simply seemed to be mild abrasions. Helen obviously came to the same conclusion, moving away from the rash without a word. Moving on to his nipples.

"Oh, yeah," he said as she sucked on the right. She was hovering above him now, hands planted on either side of his arms, knees straddling his thighs. Her hair brushed against his chest constantly, and he could feel the warmth of her belly tantalizingly above his cock. She stopped sucking, starting to flick at his nipple with a pointed tongue instead, and after a moment he wriggled away with a short laugh, unable to take it anymore.

Helen chuckled, low and dirty. "Interesting. I wonder if you're ticklish, as well."

"That's not something you need to find out." He threaded a hand through her hair, finding the back of her neck. She went with his coaxing, surging forward for a kiss that quickly turned wild and uncontained. Will wanted to pull her down to him, feel her entire body against his for the first time--but a better idea hit him.

They were both breathing heavily when Helen finally pulled back. She stayed there for a long moment, holding herself above him so that her hair blocked out everything but each other. He held her gaze, trying to figure out what she was looking for.

"Come here," he said finally, tugging on her upper arm. She cocked her head at him, so he dropped his hand down to the back of her thigh, urging her forwards. That got a wicked smile. She grabbed onto the headboard with both hands and moved up, settling her knees above his shoulders. Will's cock throbbed unmercifully at the smell of her, and it was all he could do to hold himself back while she settled in. "Good?"

"I hope so," she said, winking.

"Don't hold back," he told her, and then spread her open with his thumbs. He craned his neck upward for that first long, slow taste. Helen gasped. A quiver passed through her thighs, and then she started relaxing, letting herself drop closer to his face. He moved his hands back to her ass, urging her to keep going as he let his tongue do all the work. She was getting wetter by the second, sweetness and musk slicking her hard clit as fast as he could lick it up.

"Will, please, I need," she said, sounding kind of lost and desperate. He dug his fingers into her ass and nodded. She groaned, then shifted, tilting her pelvis forward, making it clear what she wanted. He started tongue-fucking her with a fast rhythm, and she started rocking into him, grinding against his face. His jaw ached, but there was no way he was going to stop her, not with the way she was crying out. Her muscles started fluttering, clenching around his tongue. Helen let out a long, low groan and ground down even more.

"Oh, goodness," she gasped out at last, slumping forward against the headboard. She eased her hips back so that he could take a full breath. Will worked his jaw around, watching as she recovered her breath. It didn't take long. She moved her legs back, now straddling his waist, and bent forward to kiss him, heedless of her own wetness on his face. Will took advantage of the position, getting his hands on her breasts at last. He rubbed her nipples, then gently squeezed them both at the same time.

She raised her head with an indrawn breath. "Tell me you're ready."

"Yeah, just--" But she was already stretching out across him, snatching one of the condoms off of the nightstand and ripping open the package.

"Oh, fuck," he said, the profanity slipping out when she grabbed the base of his cock. She rolled the condom on with an expert touch. Then she swung her leg over his hips, grabbed his cock again, and sank down.

Will stared at her, unable to breathe for long seconds. For all that Helen had said she wanted casual, there was something in the way she looked back at him that he could only interpret as longing. He swallowed hard, fighting for breath and to remember that this wasn't anything more that whatever she let it be.

"You're so beautiful," Helen murmured--and then she started moving.

He'd thought that, as impatient as she'd been, she'd go for broke right away. Instead, she moved slowly, sliding up until just the head of his cock was inside her. She held there for a breath, then took him in again, excruciatingly slowly. She had a hint of a smile, a hairbreadth more of a quirk to her lips than Mona Lisa's.

"Are you always this quiet?" she asked at the top of her next stroke.

Will licked his lips. "What do you want me to say?"

"Say?" Helen dipped down for a kiss. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, drawing away slowly. "I didn't say anything about talking."

"Oh. Right." He smiled up at her--and then groaned when she sat back fast, taking him deeper than she had before.

"That's more like it." She laid down on top of him and found his hands, weaving their fingers together. She pressed their hands up above his head, into the pillows, and pushed her weight into them as she started moving faster. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, sliding through the sweat that had sprung up between them. There was nothing remotely slow and teasing about the way she was moving now.

"Magnus," he gasped out. "I'm not-- Not gonna last like this."

"Then we'll just have to go again, won't we?" She grinned at him, then dropped her head to his neck, her breath warming his skin in quick puffs. He closed his eyes and just let himself enjoy it. Let the groans and cries that she wanted to hear come out of his mouth.

"Oh, god." He pushed up with his hands instinctively, wanting to grab onto her, to ground himself with her body as he came--but as always, she was at least as strong as he was. As always, she overwhelmed him, sweeping over him like the tide, leaving him shuddering and new in her wake. She rolled her hips, grinding down against his cock like she had against his mouth, drawing out his orgasm as she sought out hers. He didn't think she'd manage it, didn't think he'd stay hard long enough--but then she cried out and clenched around his cock.

"Mmm," she said sometime later. Not that much later, surely, but Will couldn't swear to it. She pushed herself back up, reaching behind her to hold the condom as she unseated herself. "That was just what I needed. Thank you."

Will huffed a laugh. "It was a terrible sacrifice. Consider yourself in my debt for a long time to come."

Helen shoved at his shoulder, but she laughed along with him. "Cheeky. So very cheeky."

Will rolled to the side and smacked his own ass. "You know it," he said, and Helen started laughing even harder. He grinned at her, then set about taking care of the condom. The trash can was next to the dresser, of all places. By the time he got back to the bed, he was so tired it took him three tries to snag the comforter off of the floor. He dragged it and the sheet up over them both, barely having the time to shove a pillow under his head before sleep started sucking him under.

He woke with a start--it had to be only seconds after he closed his eyelids, but he already felt like he'd been dreaming--as the mattress shifted, Helen making her way of bed.

"Where you going?" he mumbled.

She froze in place, back going stiff, before she relaxed and turned to look over her shoulder. "I thought I'd let you get some rest. It's been a terribly long day, after all."

"Mmm, yeah. Definitely gotta sleep." She turned away, but somehow he found the energy and coordination to reach out and snag her wrist. She looked down at his hand like a viper had struck, and he let go. He'd promised he wouldn't get clingy, after all; he just hadn't expected to have to make good on that promise quite so quickly.

"Will..."

"The bed's big," he said, as nonchalantly as he could manage. "And comfy. And we've already broken it in."

She turned back around, so that she had one leg drawn up on the bed and she was more-or-less facing him. She wasn't lying down, though. He hadn't won her over yet.

"You promised me another round, remember?" He waved vaguely behind him, in the direction of the nightstand and its remaining condom. "Come on, Magnus. Don't leave me hanging."

She hesitated again, then smiled and lifted the sheet. "Well. I am a woman of my word."

"Never doubted you," he said, eyes drifting closed again. He'd fought so hard earlier to fall asleep, and now that he'd changed sides, the battle was even more unwinnable.

The mattress shifted again. He didn't have the energy to open his eyes, much less try to talk her into staying somewhere she didn't want to be. But then, as his breath evened out and nonsense started fluttering through his brain, bare skin pressed up close to his. Helen, fitting herself into his side.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered--and then he fell asleep.

END


End file.
